Drag Me to You
by Wraithlike
Summary: He wouldn’t leave until Light left too. Because Light would never give him up, and maybe, secretly, he was glad. A fic for L's birthday and Halloween. One-shot. LxLight


**A/N: Notes below ... happy birthday, L Lawliet ...**

oOo

Drag Me to You

oOo

Thirty. Thirty years.

Thirty years, and only twenty-five of them spent alive.

L drifted in to sit on the window-sill, as oddly as he ever had in life. But really, that wasn't much of a change; L couldn't really do much _but _drift these days. The moonlight didn't illuminate him, neither did the sun. He existed, just a whisper, just a fragment of a memory that someone couldn't let go. It chained him to the earth, but he didn't mind. On nights like this, he didn't mind. There was no where he'd rather be.

The boy lying peacefully on the bed was asleep. Asleep, and unconscious of his friend's presence, but he usually was, whenever L decided to pay him a visit. Sometimes, he would move, eyes flashing in suspicion to dart around the room. Sometimes he'd shiver, as a ghostly hand reached to touch his. Sometimes he'd feel the cold breath of his neck and never say a word, never move a muscle, just sit there and pretend he hadn't killed his best friend for something so worthless as justice.

And L would watch. As ever.

October 31st. Halloween. Fitting, L thought wryly, drawing his knees tightly against his chest. A celebrate of ghosts, and the occult. Of oddity. A feast of oddity. Truly L's day, but it was today of all of the days of the year that Light would ignore his memory most determinedly.

He found it kind of amusing, really. He was allowed to find things amusing now, which was a very interesting sensation. It was ironic that he'd found his freedom after he had squandered those precious years of life; and was able to enjoy so much this hazy after-life. He was entitled to laugh, at last.

Unlike Light. Light, the boy who locked his doors and windows on Halloween, and submerged himself in paperwork until he could collapse from exhaustion. Light, who turned off his phone on the 30th, and wouldn't switch it on until the 1st of November. Light, who didn't turn the T.V. on, didn't check his emails, didn't even open the curtains to glance at the brightly dressed trick-or-treaters. Light who jammed earphones in and listened to Mahler playing at an ungodly volume until he switched the earphones for earplugs and plunged himself into slumber with the determined aid of sedatives. Light, who ignored every person in the world, and when he came to work on November the 1st would feign innocence so well (as well as he had when L had been part of that world) that he was forgiven at once, in moments. And Light would sink down in his chair, relief on his features, until Halloween would come again to haunt him.

The shadowy boy in the window hesitated, before drifting forwards again, to perch on the edge of the youth's bed, and stared into the dream-tossed face of the boy he should hate for stealing his life. Should. L should have done and been many things, but once again this death had set him free from all that. So as much as he_ should _hate this boy, he didn't. Secretly, he thanked him. But Light would never allow that.

He'd never allow himself that.

L hadn't known this at first; when he returned, disorientated, to the earth after his brief absence. He hadn't known, and for weeks, months, he had watched Light go about his life normally. Satisfied. Content. He hadn't noticed the way he avoided strawberry-flavoured things, and how after his death Light had never drunk tea again. He should have noticed; he was L, after all … but for the first time, anger had filled him, head to toe, and there was no room left for anything else. He was furious that this boy … this boy he had been sure had felt the same way, could just … return to life. Return, enjoy it, while he rotted beneath the ground.

And then, too quickly, Halloween had come. And he had watched Light – Light without a contingency plan – suffer. Not enough work to occupy him. He took a walk, and barely made it back to the house before the panic attack hit. So he switched on the T.V., switched it off again, as girls with shiny smiles and smooth hair cavorted in their costumes across the screen. And then he had sat on the sofa, curled into a ball, as L had never seen him before. Terrified. Guilty. Grieved.

He hadn't moved all night, staring into space, deep in thought. And L had sat there all night beside him, and thinking that maybe Light would feel him there, and not feel so alone. It didn't work.

Or at least, he didn't think it had, until Light was just falling towards the abyss of sleep, and whispered three words.

'I'm sorry … Lawliet …'

And so, every Halloween, L returned to watch over him, unknown to the bronze-haired boy who was still just a boy, despite all of the terrible things he had seen and done.

The shadowy apparition reached out one pale, insubstantial hand to stroke the hair of the slumbering boy. One chain, chaining him to this cruel, unfair world. And he didn't care, even though it wouldn't break until Light let him go. He should have left this world five years ago, left for good. He shouldn't be sitting here on the bedside of his murderer and best friend grimly marking his thirtieth birthday. He shouldn't, but he was.

And he smiled.

_Happy birthday, L_.

He wouldn't leave until Light left too. Because Light would never give him up.

… maybe it was a good thing. He wouldn't want to be without Light. Because though L had never believed in heaven, this was probably as close as he could ever have hoped to get. To sit here, free of responsibilities, free to feel whatever way he wanted … free to touch Light without fear of rejection …

It was the only heaven he had ever aspired to, only made sweeter by one thing …

Light couldn't let him go. And that, he thought, twining his fingers gently in the bright, coppery hair, was more than he could have ever asked for.

The best birthday present of all.

* * *

**A/N: *gasps* My first slash-fic. Oh, my ... Oh MY! Does this mean there's no going back? And to think, I generally dislike his pairing ... dislike it GREATLY. Review me. Change my mind.  
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**Anyway. This was written in literally ten minutes, so sorry if it sucks. I'm waiting for my shower to be fixed. Don't ask. Happy Halloween, and happy birthday, my dearest darling L! **

**-Wraithlike xxx  
**


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